


All That Remains

by JustAnotherUnderstudy



Series: Nothing but Time [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Birthday, F/M, First Fight, Melancholy, Nightmares, POV Alternating, Rating May Change, Rating has changed, Spies & Secret Agents, part 2 of 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:54:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24579400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherUnderstudy/pseuds/JustAnotherUnderstudy
Summary: This is the rest of the story of Olivia and James, as told, mostly, to Bill Tanner.
Relationships: James Bond/M, James Bond/M | Olivia Mansfield
Series: Nothing but Time [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1369363
Comments: 28
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rating will increase as chapters go by.

_I'm not a hostage to regret_  
_But so many times I can't forget_  
_If I could get back to those days_  
_I know what to do, I know what to say  
_

_~~Pearl Jam, Black_

* * *

Olivia turned off the road into the drive in front of the bungalow and immediately felt her body relax. The effect was too quick, however, and tears sprang to her eyes. She stopped the Aston and cut the engine with a shaky hand.

James, to his credit, gave her a few minutes now before he would come to check on her. He knew she was mortified by how emotional she had become since they'd settled into married life. It was the pregnancy, he'd assured her, and the fact that while he'd been in hospital she'd felt the need to hold it all together so tightly. Now, she could relax, and her body was just finally letting loose with the normal hormones of pregnancy.

After a minute, she pulled herself together and wiped her eyes and nose with her handkerchief. She looked at the little house and smiled as she pushed open her door.

James had George over a few days earlier to help put up Christmas lights in the window. Yesterday he'd insisted they go out on her day off and buy a tree. They'd placed it in the front window, framed by the twinkling lights.

Olivia had rarely had a Christmas tree since her parents' death. One year when she and George were on an assignment together over the holiday they had sprung for one, and a few times when she'd had lovers at Christmastime, they'd insisted on a tree. Despite how deeply she cared for George, this was the first tree since her parents' death that had ever brought her any happiness.

James opened the door as she approached the house. She was surprised to see him only using his cane today.

"I took it easy today," he explained at her questioning look.

Then he forced her to sit down on the sofa and put her feet up on the coffee table while he got dinner on the table of their small dining room.

He made small talk with her as he set food out, about his trip to the market and a rabbit he'd seen in the garden despite the cold. The soft cadence of his voice made her relax more deeply into the cushions and her eyelids began to droop.

She felt him shake her. Olivia flushed with embarrassment over how easily she had drifted off. She opened her eyes and experienced an alarming sense of disorientation.

"M?"

It was Tanner's voice next to her, and the room was not the little bungalow, but her flat. M felt a deep pang of disappointment but squelched it before she showed any of that to Tanner.

"What's happened?" M asked, fully in the present now. "Why are you here?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, as she sat up on the sofa. "I knocked and rang the bell, but you didn't answer. I was worried, so I used my key."

M shook her head to assure him it was fine.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"It's around nine in the morning," he said.

"Well, that explains why I was so deep in sleep," she told him. "I don't think I fell asleep until six."

She returned to her original question.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I came by to make you some breakfast and so you wouldn't have to be alone this morning," he said, as if that was something he did for her all the time.

Still, she couldn't be upset with him. And she appreciated not having to wake to a quiet house again.

"I don't really have much in the icebox, I'm afraid," she explained.

"That's alright," Tanner assured her, standing and picking up a bag from behind him. "I brought everything."

M glanced at the letter still laying on the table.

"I didn't look," he said.

"But you saw that it is in James' writing?" she asked.

Tanner nodded.

"You can read it, I suppose," she told him.

"Maybe, after breakfast," he smiled down at her, then he walked around the sofa and left for the kitchen.

M looked at the letter, recalled her vivid dream of James and how unusually happy she had been with him. That had been his objective, it turned out. All those little things were his way of putting a lifetime into only a few years.

She sighed and shook her head, forced herself to stand and picked up the letter before heading upstairs to change.

\---

By the time she joined Tanner in the kitchen, he was nearly done with the breakfast.

"Nothing too fancy," he informed her. "Just eggs, sausages, and toast."

"It's wonderful, Tanner, thank you," she told him.

The table was already set so she took a seat at the end nearest the inner door. She set the letter, along with one of James' photo albums, next to her on the table. Tanner intentionally ignored them as he served her the breakfast.

They ate in relative silence at first, but as M began to feel better, she started to question Bill.

"Won't your family miss you?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I was over last night," he said as he poured himself a second cup of tea. "I explained a little of what was happening and they were fine."

He smiled at her but continued, probably due to the look of uncertainty on M's face.

"Really," he assured her. "They're good people, they don't mind at all."

"I'm sorry I didn't get the door when you called," she said. "That must have given you quite a fright."

Tanner nodded.

"I thought that things had gone from bad to worse," he admitted. "I don't usually imagine it, but I have to say that this morning all the knowledge I have about what can happen to a person did not play out positively."

M nodded.

"Sometimes, ignorance is really bliss," she said.

She felt Bill's eyes on her, studying her, and, if she knew Bill, understanding that she was talking about more than just what had happened that morning.

M finished off her tea and insisted on washing up.

"I need something to do," she told Bill when he protested. "You can read the letter."

As M scrubbed the plates, she found herself wishing that James could have enjoyed the same ignorance she'd had during their marriage. It seemed to her terribly unfair that those few years of happiness for her were not as happy for him, that he had never had the reprieve from pain that he had given her.

Bill waited for her after he finished the letter and looked through the photo album she'd left on the table.

"Did you make this?" Bill asked as she sat back down across from him.

M shook her head.

"No, James made it," she said, then smiled at the surprised look she received.

"It was his hobby," M shrugged. "I have many more upstairs in the attic. George made me leave a few out so I could look at them when I wanted."

"I guess the letter explained his hobby?" Bill surmised correctly.

M nodded.

"I can't believe he knew and never said anything," Bill said.

"I can," M told him.

She sighed and leaned back in the chair. She had thought through so many things the night before and into the early hours of the morning. And it did make perfect sense that James had remained silent, not only because he hadn't wanted her to be sad, but because that was just James' nature.

"All the years he was my agent, he annoyed me so," she began to explain to Tanner. "I kept looking for the man I'd been married to, but I think I had forgotten his more aggravating parts in the ensuing years."

She smiled at some of the memories she'd finally allowed to connect to the James she'd known as an agent.

"There were many signs of the type of agent he'd be," she continued. "I had just painted over them with other memories."

Bill picked up the photo album again and began to look through the pictures again.

"Are the pictures all his?" he asked.

"Mostly," M replied. "A few were mine, and quite a few were George's, they spent a lot of time together, you know."

"Really?"

M nodded.

"They became best friends," she said. "When James was my agent I kept looking for something like that in his life, but never saw it."

She sighed.

"I suppose I understand now," she whispered.

They were silent again for a while. Tanner looked back through the photos, fascinated by this oddly domestic side of Bond that no one who knew him here, in this time, would suspect.

"I like this one," Tanner said, breaking the silence and turning the book toward her.

She smiled at a photo George had taken of her and James, sound asleep on the sofa, M's belly swollen with her child.

"We used to both be so exhausted," she chuckled. "The pregnancy did me in, especially toward the end. And James was really pushing himself in physio and with his home exercises. He wanted to be finished by the time the baby arrived."

She took the book from Tanner and looked through a few of the pages of photos.

"You know, James actually knew I was in labor before I did," she said.

She stared down at the page in front of her. Another of George's photos, this one in her hospital room after Dylan was born. She'd always thought that James looked positively exhilarated by the birth of their child. Now, though, M thought she could see something she hadn't noticed before. In his eyes, there was a touch of sadness, that same sadness he'd tried to hide from her in the safe-house in Italy after Vesper's death. Now, with her new knowledge, it seemed suddenly obvious that James had lived on the edge of that sadness their entire marriage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James has faced the worst the world has to offer. He always prided himself on his courage. But this? No, this is a whole different sort of terror.

_Pray God you can cope  
I stand outside this woman's work  
This woman's world  
Ooh, it's hard on the man...  
I should be crying, but I just can't let it show_   
_I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking  
~~~~~  
Kate Bush, This Woman's Work_

* * *

Olivia fought to remain asleep as her body pulled her involuntarily from slumber. With the baby due any day, she relished every second of sleep. But tonight she woke, and not for the usual reason.

She felt James' warm body wrapped around her, he nuzzled the back of her neck, placing intermittent kisses in between which he quietly called her name.

Olivia glared at the clock. It was only two in the morning. She was ready to turn and smack James off her when she felt more than a twinge of pain as her abdominal muscles cramped. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Nine minutes," James said.

"What?"

"Your contractions are nine minutes apart," he clarified.

"How would you know that?" she asked.

"I've been timing them for about three hours," he said.

Olivia extracted herself from his embrace and turned toward him. He propped himself up on one elbow and used his other hand to push down the blanket and stroke her belly. The look he gave it was the same awe with which he'd been giving her for months.

"The doctor said to come in when I was at five minutes," she said. "That could be some time."

"I know," he said, and he seemed to struggle to tear his eyes away from her stomach. "But I thought you might like to soak in a hot bath for a while before we go since it will be a long time before you can again."

Olivia found herself dumbfounded. It had become a common feeling. She often wondered if she oughtn't pinch herself, make sure this was all real, that James was real.

"I'll get it ready?" he asked.

Without waiting for an answer, James turned and placed his feet on the floor beside the bed. He pulled his walker over to help himself up, then he shuffled toward the bath.

"Would you like me to start it?" she called after him once he was in the hall. "It might be faster."

"Always the comedian, ma'am," he called back to her.

Olivia smiled and reached to grab her robe from the foot of the bed. She wondered if James was aware that he occasionally called her ma'am. And now that she was pondering it further, she realized it was almost always when she was not in eyesight. Sometimes she even thought she noticed that when she would come into view after calling from another room, that he was caught off-guard by her appearance. In his mind, Olivia was almost certain, he kept expecting that older version of her.

"Ready," he called.

Olivia shook her confused thoughts from her mind and followed James into the bath.

The room was warmer than the rest of the house. Not unbearably, just comfortable in the early Spring frost. He'd had the heater on long enough, which meant he'd made the trip to the bath earlier. She would have admonished him about saving his energy, but he had been so sweet she couldn't bring herself to do so.

Doing things for her seemed to give him a great deal of pleasure. He made breakfast and dinner for her, and packed her a lunch each day before work. He was always careful to have everything she wanted available. It had taken some getting used to. No one, not even George, had ever doted on her. Of course, she had never allowed it before. She had balked when James had started, but George had set her straight.

_"Liv, he loves you," George said. "How else is he supposed to show you? He can't work, can't do any of those typical manly things like giving a man a beating at the pub for looking at you wrong."_

She smiled at James now with that thought in mind. He was sitting on the edge of the tub, his walker beside him. He reached for her hand and pulled her closer to him. Then he carefully disrobed her as if he was going to make love to her.

He slid to the end of the tub to give her room to climb in. Once she was settled, he knelt down beside the tub and picked up the washcloth and began to lather the soap into it.

"James, how will you get up?" she asked, not a little worried.

"It's alright," he said, but he averted his eyes. "I've been practicing at physio, just in case, you know, if I fall."

There were things about James that confused Olivia, but this was not one of them. She sat up and put her hand behind his neck to pull his lips to her. She pulled away only because she needed to breathe through another contraction.

James quickly reached into his robe pocket to pull out the stopwatch.

"I think that's eight minutes, now," he said.

Olivia settled herself back down and James slowly ran the cloth over her body.

"You make me fell like a goddess," she sighed.

He only grinned, but he was obviously pleased with the praise.

"You know, James, you shouldn't feel ashamed at your injuries," she told him. "What you went through."

She stopped as the emotions evoked at the memory of the sight of him in that warehouse threatened to crush her.

"Most men couldn't have lived through it," she managed in a hoarse whisper.

He nodded, and Olivia knew she would have to keep repeating it many more months before James could accept it.

If their roles were reversed, James would be the one admonishing her for the same feelings he had now. She would have hated herself for her perceived weakness, and for her inability to get back into the field. It was one thing to voluntarily leave the field. She had been contemplating doing so for a year before she was pregnant. It was another thing to be forced the way James had. And he'd been a double-0. She knew that some double-0's did not do well if they lived to reach retirement. They found it all too dull. Some gave into the bottle, others became mercenaries. The Crown turned a blind eye to all of it unless the behavior threatened England itself.

James finished washing her body, then her hair. He encouraged her to relax in the warm bath for a while.

"I'm going to call George so he'll be on his way," James said.

"James, I'm only eight minutes," she told him.

"Yes, but by the time I get to the phone the baby will probably be half-way out," he said and flashed her a grin.

Olivia laughed, relieved he had taken her words to heart. But as she watched him struggle to pull himself up, she worried. She knew better than to offer him help, though. This was something he obviously felt he had to do himself.

It took him nearly half a minute to pull himself up to sit on the edge of the tub. In just that short time, beads of sweat had formed on his brow. He took several breaths before he pushed himself back to his feet and shuffled out the door.

The phone was in the living room. Olivia had insisted it be moved from the hall because there was nowhere to put a chair in the narrow passage. She heard James sit hard on the sofa. It was silent for another minute before she heard him move the phone to his lap and begin to dial George.

When they were home after the baby was born, Olivia knew she was going to have to lay down ground rules about how much physical effort he put into the things he did for her.

After James finished on the phone, it was several more minutes before he returned.

"George is on his way," he said.

"Alright," she nodded to him. "Now, you go back to bed and rest."

"I need to," he started to argue with her.

"Rest," she said, a bit of command in her tone. "You need to rest. What good will you be to me if you collapse during the delivery?"

After James nodded reluctantly and turned back toward the bedroom, Olivia allowed herself a smirk. James was always sure to do what she told him if she put enough authority behind her words. She knew she shouldn't, knew very well it was due to their relationship in the future when she would be M, but the man was so damned stubborn that Olivia was glad she had at least that as an ace up her sleeve, so-to-speak.

* * *

They had left George in the waiting room. That was the first problem, as Olivia saw it. George, she was sure, would never argue with her over this.

"Stop being so stubborn," James said after the nurse left.

She'd promised to bring the doctor in to talk sense into Olivia.

"Child birth is painful," James said. "Just take the bloody medicine."

"I've had worse," she said, then sucked in a sharp breath as the next contraction shot pain throughout her body.

"We are not in the field," he said. "I'm sure you've been in pain before, I know you have, but then there was nothing you could do about it."

She was about to snap, "What would you know?" when it hit her that he more than knew.

"Oh, god, James," she felt herself start to cry again. "I'm sorry, I just."

"I understand," he said and leaned over to kiss her. "You don't need to prove anything to me or anyone else."

He had expected to have to fight with the staff over his presence in the delivery room. Instead, he was fighting with her about an epidural. Olivia's mind had been stuck on the words of the labor instructor, encouraging the women to use their own strength to go through labor. James had grumbled then, but he hadn't known she had been considering such a step.

* * *

"Wait," Tanner interrupted. "You were arguing with James about taking pain medication and following doctor's instruction, and he was on the _pro_ side?"

They had returned to the living room. Tanner rebuilt the fire and the two were having coffee and looking over some of her photo albums.

"I know," Olivia chuckled. "I'm sure he saw the irony in the role reversal."

"I've heard it's awful," Tanner said. "One time my aunt was talking about it and said that you just forget it all because of your love for the child. My mum told me right away that it was all a lie. You never forget."

Olivia laughed again.

"No, that's not a pain I will ever forget," she said. "I'd had a lot happen to me in the field, had a lot of pain inflicted, had a lot of fear, but childbirth is a whole different thing. I was not as ready for it as I had thought."

"So you allowed the epidural?" he asked.

Olivia nodded.

"James was right," she said. "God, I'm glad I did. It was far more pleasant than it had been."

* * *

Once the epidural took effect, Olivia slept for an hour. James timed her contractions even though the nurse was monitoring them as well. It kept his mind off his fears. Their child would die at some point in the next five to six years, but James didn't know when. Childbirth was the most dangerous time in a child's life. No amount of modern statistics could shake the dread that was slowly enveloping him.

"You should sleep, too," the nurse said when she came in to check Olivia's vitals again.

"I will," he said.

She left, and James continued to watch the monitor, one hand on the stopwatch, the other on Olivia's belly.

His mind had shifted after she went to sleep. He was exhausted, but, for some reason, his agent training had taken over and he could not fall asleep.

Olivia twitched and moaned. James' eyes snapped to her face. She grimaced, then groaned again. He was about to wake her when her eyes flew open.

"Oh, god," she said.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I feel like I really need to go to the bathroom," she said.

James pressed the call button for the nurse. Her waters hadn't broken yet, so Olivia could still get up and move about if she needed. It made James nervous though. But he sat still and silent as the nurse began to help Olivia sit up and organized the two tubes from Olivia and carefully began to remove the wires from the monitor. Without Olivia's and the child's heartbeats being picked up, the machine temporarily flatlined until the nurse turned off the noise.

James chest tightened when he heard the sound and he thought he might be sick. Fortunately, the nurse was focused on Olivia who had her back to him. He composed himself quickly and watched Olivia make her way across the room.

They were halfway across the room when Olivia suddenly cried out and there was a splashing sound.

"Looks like we'll have to go back to the bed, Mrs. Smythe," she said calmly.

She called toward the door and another nurse came in right away to help Olivia get back into bed, followed by another who cleaned up the mess.

After that, everything was a rush. They needed to get the monitor back around her waist, the doctor had to be called. The baby would be coming soon, now that her waters had broke.

James held Olivia's hand silently and watched all the action with the calm he'd learned in sniper training. He breathed slowly and deeply, keeping his focus on his target and shutting out the chaos around him.

The doctor was young and friendly. James had liked him immediately, mostly because he'd insisted the staff lower the bed so James could reach Olivia easily.

Now, the young man sat the foot of the bed, Olivia's legs up in the stirrups, and they all waited for her to do the rest of the work. Even with the medication, it looked as if she was still struggling with pain. Of course, considering what was happening to her body, a huge child being somehow pushed out a hole that should only be 10 centimeters, he could imagine it would be painful no matter what.

She squeezed his hand tightly as she pushed harder and harder. James kept his breathing steady. He had to be ready for the worst. He had to be ready to comfort her in case it happened now.

"Alright, mum," the doctor said. "We're almost there, I can see the babe's head now."

This information seemed to energize Olivia. Her strength seemed renewed. All James could do was marvel at the event, at her strength, at the growing awareness of what had happened. He had created a child with her.

"Yes," the doctor said. "There's the full head out.

"Just a few more and we'll have this over with," the doctor encouraged. "You're doing just fine, the baby is just fine."

The doctor's words hit James in a way nothing else ever had. He had to choke back tears so as to not disturb Olivia as she pushed twice more and suddenly the baby was out.

Olivia let out a cry of elation as she fell back onto the bed. The doctor proclaimed they had a boy, and laid the lad on his mother's chest.

When James looked at Olivia she was smiling at the baby, but she had tears in her eyes. The baby's brief cries were stopped now that he was comforted in his mother's arms.

The baby. Their son.

James stared as that awareness he'd felt earlier now overcame him. He had created a child with her. A son.

He leaned in to have a better look. He watched as the baby began to lift his head in search of his mother's breast. The nurse helped Olivia adjust him so she could nurse. Olivia held the boy in one arm and reached over to James with the other. He looked at her as she cupped his cheek and ran her thumb under his eye. It was only then that he realized he was crying, and unabashedly so.

His relief became palpable and his body began to give way to the events of the night. He leaned against the bed and watched their son as he nursed. He stroked his small foot that was sticking out from under the light blanket.

It took him several minutes to grasp everything he was thinking and feeling, but when he did, he realized that this child, this one thing, was the only good thing he'd ever done in his life. And for a moment, he forgot everything else. All his fears and his unnatural knowledge of future events, none of it mattered as he leaned his head on Olivia's arm and, for the first time in his life, felt himself part of something bigger, something more important, than he'd ever done before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if there are any errors, let me know. I accidentally hit "post" when I meant to just save it to edit better later. But I'm too tired to undo it all now. lol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One thing M can always count on is that when James thinks she is upset with him, he will try to move literal mountains to prove himself to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how long this will last but I have written everyday since I wrote Roses. I have another assignment for my class today. I wonder if I keep using the same names that the prof will figure out who my muses are? :D

**_Three months later_ **

Olivia turned off the water in the shower and stepped out quickly. She could hear Dylan crying wildly in the nursery. She wrapped her robe around herself and rushed to see why he was so upset. What she saw terrified her.

James was laying on the floor next to the crib, he’d obviously fallen, and Dylan was screaming as James held him with one arm while trying to pull himself up on the crib with the other.

“What are you doing?”

She quickly knelt down and took Dylan from James.

“Why didn’t you just get me?”

“You were in the shower,” James said through gritted teeth.

Olivia rolled her eyes.

“Are you alright?” She asked. “Do you need help getting up?”

James shook his head.

“No, just take care of Dylan,” he told her and waved her away.

Olivia looked around and found James' cane behind him on the floor. She was going to reach for it so James could use it to help himself up when he shooed her out with a growl.

“Take care of Dylan,” he spat, though Olivia wasn’t sure if that was because he was angry or if it was because he was in pain.

“Fine,” she harrumphed, and she left him to his own devices to try to get back up to the rocking chair next to the crib, or whatever else he had planned.

After Dylan was fed, she returned to the nursery to change him. James had made it into the chair, but he looked like it had taken all of his effort.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” She asked again.

“I just wanted to help,” he sighed.

Olivia took a deep breath to keep from voicing her anger at the situation. James was obviously in pain from the fall, and she needed to get ready to leave for work. They could discuss this later.

She left him and took Dylan to the swing in the living room. She’d just got him settled with a knock at the door announced the arrival of the nanny, Mrs. Davies. Olivia let her in and ran to finished getting ready for work.

She peeked in on James before she left. He hadn’t moved from the chair.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” she asked quietly.

James shook his head, not opening his eyes.

“You’ll be late for work,” he said.

“Fine, be a martyr,” she mumbled as she walked to the front door.

* * *

By the time Olivia returned home that evening, the morning’s drama had all but been forgotten. It wasn’t that she didn’t pay attention to what happened at home, but there was a situation coming to a boiling point in Poland that had all her attention from the moment she walked into work until she finally pried herself away an hour later than she usually left.

Mrs. Davies' car was still in the drive, which surprised Olivia. James must have been worried of a repeat of that morning and asked the woman to stay until Olivia arrived.

She parked the car and hurried inside.

Mrs. Davies met her at the door She pulled on her sweater and grabbed up her purse as she spoke with Olivia.

“Dylan is asleep in the cradle and Mr. Smythe is asleep on the sofa,” she informed Olivia.

“What?”

“Oh, we’ve had quite a day,” she told Olivia and proceeded to tell her everything that had happened.

When she finished, she opened the door to head out. She turned just before she shut the door.

“I’m just glad I wasn’t here for the argument,” Mrs. Davies chuckled. “It must have been fantastic.”

She shut the door and Olivia was left confused. Yes, things had been tense when she left, but neither Dylan nor James had been hurt, and she and James hadn’t really said much to each other about it.

In the living room, she found James seated on the sofa, snoring, his head rested on the back and faced up to the ceiling. Olivia chuckled at the sight. Next to the sofa, Dylan slept soundly in his cradle. The sight of her son brought a familiar ache in her breasts. She had to nurse. She had left work late and now she had more than enough milk.

She waited, though. Mrs. Davies had said he’d eaten an hour earlier. And Olivia could just go ahead and pump if it became necessary.

She took her bags into the kitchen and stowed the breast milk she’d pumped during the day in the freezer. James had made a roast, with all the trimmings: potatoes, vegetables, scratch rolls. He’d even gone and made her a damned blueberry pie with a lattice top.

She looked around the kitchen and shook her head.

“No wonder he’s exhausted,” she said to herself.

She served herself a plate of the food that Mrs. Davies had kept warm for her and ate quickly because the pain was increasing. She’d have to do something about it soon if she didn’t want to waste the milk.

As she finished cleaning up after her meal, she heard Dylan finally stirring. It was still so strange to her that her entire body could feel relief just from a few noises he made to indicate he was going to want to eat. She was glad she had her own car and didn’t have to take the train to work. She wasn’t sure what might happen if she heard another baby making those noises.

She quietly fixed Dylan up, feeding him and changing him. She lay down with him on the bed for a while and talked with him. He was usually fairly active in the evening, which made her glad. Between the time she left work until she went back in the morning, she was often questioning her decision to not stay home. The looks she often got, and the whispers of her coworkers didn’t help. She wanted to ask James if that would change in the future. Were women in 2010 still shamed for their decision to keep their career after having a child?

Once Dylan was asleep for the night, Olivia heated a plate of food for James. He was never going to sleep through the night without pain medication, and he couldn’t take it on an empty stomach.

She set the plate on the coffee table and attempted to rouse James from his slumber. He opened his eyes and gave a disoriented glance around the room. When his eyes lit on her, Olivia simply held his gaze. This wasn't the first time James had woke unsure of where, or possibly when, he was. Sleepless nights did that to parents, but James had more going on mentally than just new parenting.

He glanced away then squeezed his eyes shut. James never told her, but she suspected each time he reacted this way that he had expected another person, an older version of herself, and another place. Olivia maintained her calm exterior. Panicking was never going to help James acclimate.

"Why are you home so early?" he finally asked.

"Early?" Olivia scoffed. "It's nine o'clock."

"What?" James looked around the room again in surprise.

He stared at the clock over the mantle then shook his head.

"Sorry, I didn't realize," he said.

He made an attempt to sit up but was obviously too weak.

"You'll likely need a sleeping pill, James," Olivia said as she picked up his plate.

She speared a cut up piece of roast and moved it toward James.

"I can feed myself," he grumbled.

Olivia raised one brow and gave him a dubious look.

"Alright," she said.

She set the plate back on the table and turned to James. James looked at the plate, then made another attempt to sit up. After a moment he leaned back on the sofa again, vainly stifling a groan of pain.

"Maybe if you just handed me the fork," he breathed, exhausted just from that little effort.

If Olivia wasn't so perturbed by his stubbornness now, she would have allowed herself more concern. Instead, she rolled her eyes as she took up the plate again and held the fork for him to take. James slowly lifted his hand toward the plate, but his hand shook so badly he could not take hold of the fork.

Finally, he let his hand drop back to his lap. He made no mention of concession but Olivia brought the for to his mouth. James opened for her and took the food, but he refused to look at her. Olivia waited for him to finish chewing before she spoke.

"What are the rules when eating, James?" she asked as she pushed the fork into a piece of cabbage.

James gave her a withering look, suspecting, she supposed, that he was being chastised for having to be fed like a baby.

"Well?" she prompted.

She raised the fork to his mouth again and this time he took the food quickly, probably hoping he wouldn't have to answer.

"The rule is, 'don't talk with food in your mouth,'" she said as she pulled the fork away.

He furrowed his brow as he chewed.

"So that is what is going to happen," she said as she prepared another forkful. "I am going to fill you mouth, and you are not going to talk."

He swallowed and eyed her warily as she pushed the fork into his mouth again.

"Mrs. Davies is under the impression that you and I had quite the row this morning," Olivia told him. "When I saw all the food, I understood what gave her that idea."

James had finished his bite and tried to speak but Olivia shoved another forkful in his face and he dutifully took it.

"Now, I assume this has to do with what happened this morning," Olivia said.

James looked away in answer.

"James, I'm not angry," she told him. "I was a bit upset this morning but Dylan was fine, and apparently you are fine if you can make all this food _and_ a blueberry pie."

"You like blueberry pie," he countered around a mouthful of food.

"On special occasions," she told him. "You don't need to kill yourself in the middle of the week."

She stabbed a piece of the roast and James swallowed then opened his mouth to take it.

"Better," she mumbled.

"What happened this morning was an accident, James," she sighed.

She shook her head when he looked as if he might speak.

"No talking with food in your mouth," she admonished.

"James, the rocking chair isn't three steps from the crib," Olivia continued. "You have taken that many steps without assistance multiple times and there was no reason for you to think you couldn't have done it this morning."

James looked like he might say something but Olivia was ready with another scoop.

"It was unfortunate that your legs chose that moment to give out on you," she said as James chewed. "But you are both OK and that's all that matters to me."

She put as much emphasis on her last sentence as she could without sounding harsh. She didn't want him to think she was angry over anything that had happened today.

"Now, as for the meal and the pie," she began.

She pushed the fork into a carrot and some peas and waited for James to finish what he had in his mouth.

"This is all entirely unnecessary," she said once his mouth was full again. "I don't want you to put yourself through all this just because you think I am upset."

She sighed and looked down at the plate. James didn't like to talk about the fact that the physio had said this was likely as strong as James would ever get. He advised James to walk a little each day and to try some weights, but there was nothing more they could do to improve his condition. Being told he should be happy he was walking at all was not helpful.

"It's not healthy for you, James," she said quietly.

She turned her eyes back to him and watched him eat for a moment before she asked the question that had come to mind during their one-sided conversation.

"Are you afraid I will fire you?"

James paused, carefully swallowed his food, then opened his mouth for another bite.

Olivia rolled her eyes.

"Really, James," she said as she pushed another bite of food into his mouth. "I'm your wife now, not your boss."

James chewed as Olivia shook her head.

"A damned blueberry pie," she grumbled.

"Language," James said after swallowing his bite.

"James, he's in the other room," she reminded him. "Besides, he's a baby."

"If you don't stop using the words now," James told her. "You'll keep talking like that when he's older and he'll be running around the schoolyard telling people to get off the 'g-d' swing."

Olivia smirked and forced back a chuckle.

"G-d?" she asked.

"You know what I mean," he glared at her. "We agreed."

Olivia cut him off by shoving another fork of food in his face while she laughed quietly at him.

As James finished his bite, Olivia took the plate into the kitchen and washed the few dishes that were left. When she walked back into the living room, she picked up his walker from beside the dining table and brought it to him.

By the time James had shuffled his way across the living room, Olivia wondered if it wouldn't have been better to have made up a bed for him on the sofa. She knew, though, that James would not have liked that at all.

James sat on the edge of the bed and Olivia began to unbutton his shirt.

"This isn't going to end as well as I hope, is it?" he smirked up at her.

"Well, it could have, but you used all your energy on making a fancy pie," she retorted.

She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and intentionally shoved her breasts into his face.

"Tease," he grumbled.

"Consider it my revenge for only having the pleasure of a blueberry pie this evening," she said.

She stepped over to the bureau and made a dramatic show of bending over and wiggling her arse for him while she looked for his pajamas.

"Woman, I swear," James started.

"Uh-uh," Olivia turned and walked back to him with his pajamas.

"Language," she said in a husky whisper and leaned in to give him a searing kiss. James reacted strongly, and Olivia pushed him back onto the bed as soon as he did. She straddled his legs and began to undo his belt, then his pants. He was aroused, but Olivia could tell there was no way it would last. She chuckled at his imagined suffering and James groaned in response.

The food had helped give James a little more energy and he was able to help her she dressed him, but by then it was obvious he needed to take his pill and sleep. Olivia brought it with a glass of water then made another show of tucking him into bed like a child. He gave her a proper pout and she turned on her heel and left the room to get herself ready for bed.

She went around the house to make sure everything was locked up tight, then she got herself dressed and ready and joined James in the bed. He was already sleeping soundly when she crawled under the covers. She curled up beside him, resting one hand on his chest. Her body immediately relaxed when she made contact with him. Her eyes began to droop and it was only a moment before she was drifting off.

A vague thought fluttered through her mind about how James, too, had such a strong effect on her body. No one had ever helped her relax this way. So many things were different about her since she had met James. She briefly wondered, right before she was pulled under into a sound sleep, if her reaction to him in the future, when he would be her agent, would be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a nice long chapter for you (by my standards). I hope that slightly makes up for my lack of writing enthusiasm lately. :D I have school and work all day but tonight I hope to look at any stories I missed. I hope you have a wonderful day. Take care of yourselves, especially if you are stressed out in the US.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James’ first birthday as a husband and father. Doesn’t that sound fluffy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here’s the sitch...it was either this short half-chapter or no chapter for god only knows how long. School is such a pleasure these days, ya know.

James lay on a blanket on the living room floor. Dylan sat next to him precariously, James’ hand held him up by his back. He stacked the wooden alphabet blocks in a single tower for his son, turning a letter or number or animal toward Dylan and saying it each time he picked up a new block. When he got to the fifth block in the stack, Dylan leaned over carefully and waved his hand through the middle and knocked the tower over. The blocks fell back down to the blanket and Dylan shrieked happily, then stared at the blocks waiting for James to repeat the process.

As he repeated the process, he could see the excitement build on his son’s face and could not stop the grin on his own. After several rounds of building and destruction, he looked up at Olivia who was curled up on the sofa, reading.

“Our son is obviously Godzilla reincarnated,” he told her.

She chuckled as she looked up from her book.

“ _You_ were the double-0,” she said. “Any destructive tendencies he might have are probably inherited from you.”

James chuckled as Olivia smiled at them, then he returned to the process. In the corner of his eye he watched Olivia turning her wrist over to look at the time again.

George was due to arrive soon. Olivia had tasked him with picking up James’ birthday cake at the bakery on his way over. She hadn’t precisely said that George’s wife would not be welcome today, and she looked nervous as she waited.

James hoped George would just tell his wife he was going to come over for a visit and somehow hide the fact that it was a small gathering. The instant he had first seen Barbara, shortly after the wedding, he had hated her. He hadn’t told Olivia, couldn’t tell her in fact, that he had met Barbara once, barely less than two years ago.

* * *

_After the graveside service for George Mansfield ended, the guests each walked over in turn to pay their respects to Olivia and the other members of George’s family. James had headed up security for the service and had hand-picked each person working with him. They watched the perimeter while he and Tanner watched M to see if there was any reaction to any of the people who were present._

_Everything had gone smoothly. M had been tense, but James had expected that. However, as one guest in particular made her way down the reception line toward M, he could see her tension steadily increase._

_The tall, blonde woman appeared to be a few years younger than M, but her face was smooth in the manner of women who’d had far more plastic surgery than their skin could take. He’d noticed her when she’d arrived with a man who looked similarly manicured. They were both tan and their hair was obviously dyed and perfectly coiffed. He had idly compared the woman with M and found he much preferred M’s natural look. He thought it a part of what showed her humanity and made her real, more real than this woman who was now standing in front of her._

_James’ eye brows rose involuntarily when the woman dared to give M a hug. For her part, M received it stiffly. She nodded her head politely at whatever the woman and her companion were saying to her. He could tell almost immediately that the woman planned to keep M for some time, so he walked quickly over to M. He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. As he put it to his ear, he switched off the device._

_“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said quietly when he reached her. “But there is an important call.”_

_He watched the other woman from behind his sunglasses as he spoke. There was a flash of something in her eyes, anger, jealousy, some combination of the two._

_“Thank you,” M told him, then she turned back to the woman._

_“I need to take this,” she said. “Excuse me.”_

_He led M toward the car and when they were far enough, M held out her hand for the phone._

_“What is it about?” she asked as he began to hand her the phone._

_James walked around in front of her so she would be facing away from the woman and her companion. He leaned down to talk quietly to her._

_“It’s nothing,” he said. “The phone is off, just take it and act like you are talking.”_

_The surprised look she gave him melted into a soft look he’d never seen on her face before. Then she took the phone to carry out the ruse._

* * *

James had seen that look many times now. It was the way Olivia said 'thank you' without words. He’d also seen 'that woman' many times since then, though not often. He suspected that James’ marriage to Olivia had been a relief to George for more reasons than just his desire to see her happy in a relationship. With Olivia married, George had the ability to spend as much time with her as he liked. Now he could simply say he was visiting James. Barbara wasn’t fond of Olivia, so the woman rarely volunteered to come along.

James considered it vital that Olivia and George maintain a close bond. James might know when the two were married, but he had no idea when he and Dylan would be taken from Olivia. James needed George to be near her, she would need him whenever it happened.

As such, James had George over often. He’d even insisted they spring for some word working tools and start to set up a shop for George to work in their own garage. James was almost constantly looking for ways to have George around. While, at first it was about Olivia, James found that George was very companionable. He doted on Dylan and, most importantly, George understood James’ and Olivia’s relationship, something other men in the neighborhood hadn’t really warmed to.

One thing James did that he knew Barbara would hate was that, on a fairly regular basis, he would take a rest in the bedroom or go out for a short walk alone and leave George and Olivia to chat together. Today he planned to do just that. He had been busy in the morning cleaning and cooking far more than was necessary. Olivia had chastised him once but he’d assured her he felt fine. He did, but even so, after lunch and cake he planned to take a long rest in the bed to give George and Olivia a good amount of time.

It was practical. Olivia and George were like a slow-burn romance, and there were days that James thought that if he hadn’t already seen the future marriage certificate he would have no faith they’d ever figure things out on their own. Neither of them was close to admitting their feelings. His marriage to Olivia was obviously the biggest hindrance at the moment. Still, he worried and wondered what it would take to make sure they would finally get together.

Then James would remind himself that whatever it was, it was inevitable. The timeline was circular. One day Olivia would marry George. It gave James a small comfort, however, if he thought he might have a hand in it.

He walked a thin line, mentally. In one moment, he was just an ordinary husband and father, caring for his family,. In the next, the weight of reality would threaten to crush him. He tried to focus on giving Olivia everything he thought she might need to be strong when the time came, and on giving Dylan everything that would make his short time happy.

James internal thoughts were scattered when the phone rang. Olivia got up quickly to answer it. The look on her face of anticipation quickly turned sour as soon as she heard the person at the other end.

“Ah, that’ll be work,” he said quietly to Dylan and stacked another block.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice and face conveying annoyance. “Why are you calling me about this?”

James felt a smile grow and leaned into Dylan to softly say, “Oh, somebody’s in trouble now.”

“I already gave you my analysis, you rejected it and did what you had already wanted to do before I was brought in,” Olivia said, her eyes narrowed as she spoke.

James took a calming breath and whispered to Dylan again, “I know you are too young to appreciate this, but your mother is incredibly attractive when she’s angry.”

“Let me get this straight,” she continued, the disbelief in her voice making James’ smile widen. “You ignored my analysis, your operation went to,” she paused and looked down at Dylan, then continued, skipping whatever word she had intended to use, “And now you want me to come and rescue you.”

James’ cringed dramatically as if watching someone take a blow.

“Ouch, there goes that man’s ego,” he chuckled when he spoke to Dylan. “Nothing the modern man hates more than being rescued by a woman.”

“Have you spoken with M?” She asked.

“Oof, now she going for the jugular,” James commented. “She’s going to force him to admit his failure AND beg her for help. Your mother is a dangerous woman.”

James continued to watch Olivia while Dylan chewed on one of the blocks. After a few more terse words for the idiot on the other end of the line she told him to have M call her, then she slammed down the phone. Her lips were pursed and she glared across the room at a spot on the wall. James realized he had never seen her this angry. Not that she never had been, and most likely it was with him she was, but he was her husband now, not her agent. She could let her guard down with him.

Her breath hissed slowly through gritted teeth and she glanced down at James and Dylan. Her eyes went wide when she saw James. Then she chuckled and shook her head.

“Oh, that’s right,” she said, her voice turning seductive. “You enjoy it when I rip strips off a man.”

James merely tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

She took a deep breath, sighed loudly and looked at the ceiling before turning back to him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I will have to go in, even if M doesn’t call. I can’t let...”

She trailed off and James knew she was about to say more than she should. Though he was under the Official Secrets Act, James hadn’t the clearance for anything Olivia did at work.

“Still, George will be here soon,” she announced and turned to walk to the bedroom.

“What?” James called. “You’re going to leave me with George while I’m in this condition?”

Olivia turned her head and looked back at him over her shoulder. She cocked her head in that mock arrogant way that she knew did almost as much for him as her anger.

“James, darling,” she admonished. “If you are going to have an affair with my best friend, I’d rather not know about it.”

Then she turned and flounced saucily toward the bedroom.

James grimaced after her.

“One day I will just spontaneously combust,” he mumbled.

He turned back toward Dylan. The lad had a block in his mouth and one in each hand. He handed one to James who took it out of his son’s hand hand.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said and promptly put it between his teeth.

Dylan’s body shook as he laughed around the block in his mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We live in a vale of tears...We can have all the dreams we like, but life is hard, implacable, sad." Paulo Coelho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't that the cheeriest summary ever? (Also, note the rating change from T to M)

Olivia returned in her robe five minutes later when the doorbell rang.

"I'd worry I was interrupting but the look on your face says something different," James heard George say.

Olivia entered the living room carrying a rectangular pink cake box.

"So, it all went to," George started as he entered and shut the door.

Olivia turned back and gave him a sharp look.

"I was going to say 'heck,'" he retorted.

She hummed a noise that informed him plainly that she didn't believe him, then carried the cake to the kitchen.

George hung his coat on the rack next to the door and stepped into the living room. Dylan was looking in his direction. He'd heard George's voice and his little face brimmed with anticipation. The moment he stepped around the corner from the small foyer into the living room, Dylan screeched with excitement and his arms flew up for George to take him.

"There's gratitude for you," James mumbled as George stooped down to pick up Dylan.

After he stood, George shifted Dylan into one arm and reached down with his other hand to help James stand.

"The common is taken for granted," George told him sagely, then he carried Dylan into the kitchen.

Olivia walked past them without giving them a glance and headed back to the bedroom. James followed George into the kitchen and watched him set Dylan carefully into the high chair. James had rigged it with shoulder straps to add safety when he couldn't find one on the market he thought would be secure enough.

"Liv will be going in, it seems," George commented after he strapped Dylan in.

He handed the boy a baby spoon he'd taken from the drawer and then opened the refrigerator.

"Yes, some sort of idiot who tried to do it his way," James told him, trying not to think about the irony of his words.

"I expected this would happen," George said.

He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a small jar with something green inside.

"This isn't broccoli or brussel sprouts, is it?" George asked.

"It's peas," James said and rolled his eyes.

"Just want to make sure to avert any disasters while I'm here," he said.

"Maybe he'll like them, eventually," James said. "He might not have taken after his vegetable hating Uncle George, you know."

George smiled at James' comment as he pulled a small pot out from the lower cabinet. He filled the bottom with water and set the jar of baby food into the pot to heat it. Then he went to the pantry and brought out the box of teething biscuits.

James glanced back across the living room.

"I, uh," James started, but George interrupted.

"Yes, you should," he said and nodded his head to indicate the direction Olivia had just walked.

James stared at him in surprise for a moment.

"Well, I do know the situation, and, well, she can tell you what she can," George sighed as he handed Dylan a biscuit.

Dylan screeched happily again. James could hear him pound the spoon on high chair behind him as he walked toward the bedroom.

Dylan adored George and James knew that if he was taken from Olivia before Dylan that George would make a good father for however long Dylan had left.

James stopped at the bedroom door and tried to suppress the dread that had been threatening all day. Most days he could easily separate known future events from the present. Today, however, was his birthday, and now that he knew that he and Dylan had only a few years with Olivia it was difficult not to consider the hard facts.

After he calmed himself, he opened the door quietly. He saw Olivia sitting on the edge of the bed, still in her robe. Her defeated look surprised him. He shut the door behind him and cautiously took the few steps toward the bed. When he carefully sat down next to her, he put one arm around her and gently pulled her against him.

"You shouldn't let them affect you like this," he said.

James worried. What had happened to all the fight that had been in her only moments earlier?

"This isn't about work," she said, and sighed as her arms went around him.

"It's your birthday," she said with a remorseful tone.

"I wish I'd never told you about that," he said, and kissed the top of her head.

He often wondered, in fact, why he had told her about his parents' death. He had talked to her more in those few days in the safe house in Paris than he had in the years she had been his M. What had happened to make him practically lay himself bare to her? He had always been so careful with his words. Yet it had taken only a day in this time to unravel all the protections he had set up between them.

"I'll be fine," James assured. "I'll save you a piece of cake and we can celebrate tomorrow."

Olivia shook her head against his shoulder.

"That's doubtful," she told him. "If I'm right, I'll likely have to travel."

“I’ll make you a new cake, then,” he said. “I really should work on my cake decorating skills, you know.”

He smiled when he felt her laugh.

“You’re a veritable Julia Childs,” she told him.

They were quiet for a moment, then Olivia leaned in closer and rested her hand on his thigh. It was at just the right spot that it clearly displayed her intentions. James took a shaky breath when she began to slowly move her hand up his leg.

“If you keep up with that, you won’t be going into the office any time soon,” he said, his voice gruff with need.

“Don’t worry, George is here,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

James tightened his lips around a laugh and decided to play along.

“Well, George _is_ a very handsome man,” he said.

Olivia hummed in agreement.

“Tall, dark, and handsome,” she interjected.

“Yes,” James drew out the word laying on a sarcastic tone.

“He turns all the ladies heads,” Olivia continued.

“And many of the men,” James added, making his voice light.

He moved one hand to the belt on her robe.

“To me, though, he seems to be missing _certain_ assets.”

Olivia pulled away slightly as James began to tug at the tie that held her robe closed. She gave her one of her innocent seductress looks.

“Why, James, what assets do you mean?” she asked with a little pout.

James continued to play despite her use of that tone. She knew he hated it, but his hatred of it amused her so he tolerated it. He had learned over the last year that her laughter had a greater affect on him than her ire ever did.

He glanced down at her chest as he pulled her robe away. A wry smile came to his face at her gasp when he gently grabbed one of her breasts.

“Well, I prefer something a little _softer_ than that well-chiseled torso George likes to show off at the seaside,” he whispered in her ear as he squeezed the perfect mound.

He kissed her neck and reached around her back to pull her into his lap.

“Do you really like them?” she asked in that innocent voice, but there was a tremble in her voice as he returned one hand to her breast.

He slid other hand between her legs to feel how wet she was and that was her undoing.

“Fuuuuck,” she breathed, her eyes turned dark as quickly as her voice turned husky.

Her hips jerked toward him involuntarily and James took the opportunity to push a finger inside her.

Before they had decided to be responsible parents and reserve swearing for sex, vulgarity had never had a physical effect on James. Now, one utterance like that from Olivia made his blood course directly to his groin. Visions of Olivia riding his cock filled the void left in his mind.

“Oh, god,” she moaned and leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder as he pushed in and out of her.

James felt the pressure in his pants as his cock swelled. He wanted relief, but he couldn't bring himself to remove either of his hands from Olivia's body.

“James, no, we can’t do this,” Olivia was panting in his hear.

“Sure we can, we just have to be quick about it,” he assured her. “You know I can be very fast when I’m desperate.”

“No, I mean George is here,” she explained.

“He is in the kitchen, not in the room,” James said and leaned forward to suck a nipple into his mouth again

“Still, James, really,” Olivia said sounding aroused and bothered at the same time.

He pulled away from her and gave her a confused look.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” she said.

“The principle of the thing,” he repeated slowly.

The next moment he flipped her onto her back on the bed and pinned her down. She yelped in surprise.

“James, what are you doing?”

“Who are you and what have you done with my wife?” he asked.

“What are you talking about?” she said with a laugh, still surprised at the move.

“Are you or are you not the same woman who a year ago had _George_ stand outside my _unlocked_ hospital room door where anyone could have walked in at any time and discovered us having the most amazing sex that building has likely ever known?”

She shuddered beneath him as her face flushed. Her pupils were blown with pleasure.

“Oh,” he said and drew it out on a long low breath. “I see.”

“What?” she stuttered.

“The principle of the thing is not George,” he gave her a wicked smile. “It’s the locked door.”

She swallowed thickly and closed her eyes. James leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“It’s too bad it’s so cold at night or else I’d lay a blanket out in the garden when you came home tonight," he said as he shifted himself to press his groin against hers. "I’d undress you and make love to you under the stars where anyone might to see us.”

James groaned when he felt Olivia convulse in pleasure beneath him. She whimpered and he broke. He lifted himself quickly and began to undo his pants. If he wasn’t inside her in the next minute he was going to embarrass himself.

The phone rang loudly from the living room and James swore, not in pleasure.

“That’ll be M,” Olivia said after taking a few calming breaths.

“Of course it will,” James grumbled.

Gingerly, he eased himself off of her and took several breaths hoping to get some control over himself.

The phone stopped ringing and James could hear George talking. A moment later he was tapping on the door.

“Liv, it’s M on the line,” he said, his voice muffled.

“I’ll be right there,” she replied, sounding very put together while James felt as if his soul was about to come apart at the seems.

How the hell had he missed this kink of hers? And now that he knew about it, what was he going to do?

Olivia wrapped her robe back around herself and left the room to take the call. James lay, dazed, on the bed, his pants half opened. In the fog of lust, his reasonable side warred against everything this new knowledge promised. Olivia liked, no, she wanted terribly, to be fucked in open places where someone might find her. However, one day, Olivia would be M to a younger version of himself. There were certain things he had promised himself he would not do and not reveal to her because of that. He didn't have this important bit of information, however, when he'd made that promise to himself.

James silenced the argument and forced himself back to the present. Olivia’s tone from the living room was cooling him quickly. The reality was, his reasonable side said, knowing it had won the argument, she was going to be M some day. James needed her to be his M. Putting her in positions where that future could be compromised was not something he could actively pursue.

He stood from the bed and caught his reflection in the mirror over the bureau. His hair was still longer than he'd ever worn it in his life, and it was a wild mess. His clothes were wrinkled and twisted out of place. He would have smiled at such a look, taking pleasure in the knowledge of how good it felt when she made him look this way. Today, he averted his gaze as a bitter thought formed. He finally had what he'd only dreamed, but it was still, really, just a dream. It would be fleeting and gone, almost as soon as it began.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The writers and visionaries tell us that time travel will be a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since I posted the first story in this series, The Robe, but it is only one chapter and, if you've forgotten what happens to George, it might be helpful to take a quick look at it.

George spent the afternoon of the party running interference. Anytime James began to feel out of sorts dealing with the neighbors and friends who passed through, George would enter the conversation and skillfully redirect the person away from James or take James away under the pretense of needing to find a spare bottle opener or some nonsense that James knew George could have handled on his own.

The guests finally left and the house was quiet. James sighed as he and Olivia made love in front of the open french doors. The warm sea air made a useless attempt at cooling their heated bodies. He moaned as she took his cock in her hand then lowered her lips to suck him. His hands threaded through her hair. Something in the back of his mind told him this wasn't right. M had short, cropped hair. This woman's hair was long and thick.

Before he could consider it further, his cellphone rang. He pushed the woman off of him despite her protests.

"It's work," he said.

He sat up in his bed and reached for the phone on the side table.

"Bond," he answered.

"Bond, it's Tanner, something's happened."

James felt a sense of dread.

"M's husband was killed," Tanner said.

"George?" James couldn't believe it. "But, he was just here."

"You need to come in," Tanner said.

He hung up the phone and took a shaky breath. Then he stood and picked up the woman's clothes from off the floor and shoved them at her. James looked at her when she whined. That's when he realized what had been wrong with her.

"Look, Solange, you need to leave," he said. "Try to find a nicer fellow, will you?"

Then he took her by the arm and forced her out into the hall barely registering that she was still undressed. M was all that mattered now.

He took a quick shower to wash off the other woman's scent, then he drove to the safe house.

He entered the building and proceeded down a long, narrow hallway. There was only one door, directly at the end. The faster he walked, the further the door got. He could hear M's muffled cries. He yelled that he was coming, but the door only moved swiftly away from him. Suddenly, though, he reached the door. When he threw it open, he was in her office. M was behind her desk, dressed for dinner. She rose and picked up George´s robe from the back of her chair. As she walked toward him she wrapped herself in the garment.

"How could you do this James?" she accused.

"I didn't," was all he could think to reply.

"We have evidence, Bond," Tanner said, appearing behind him.

Bond turned to him as Tanner pulled a remote from his pocket and pointed it toward a huge screen that was on the wall, in place of the windows. The screen sprang to life showing the inside of the cottage. The guests at James' party were leaving. The next scene, George was at his car and James came up behind him. When George turned toward him, James saw the older man, just as he was in the pictures at the funeral.

"James, what are you doing here?" he asked, smiling.

James gave him a cold stare and held up the detonator. Across the street, he heard M scream, then he pushed the the button and George was engulfed in flames.

* * *

James was shocked awake and found himself in his bed, gasping for air. He sat up and stared wildly around the room, trying to get his bearings. Everywhere he looked, George appeared and suddenly burst into flames.

He heard M calling his name from far away. He called for her as his eyes peered past the flames. Finally she appeared at the foot of his bed. He held her gaze until his breathing calmed and the flames slowly abated. Then he relaxed and collapsed back onto the bed and closed his eyes.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

He nodded, though it wasn't true. He wasn't alright. The dream had been so vivid, and now, when he'd finally seen her, he didn't see his wife, he saw his M.

"Bad dream," he managed to say through his dry throat.

James took several deep breaths and forced the image of George's death from his thoughts. When he was in hospital and had first started to see George on a regular basis, these dreams occurred regularly, but he hadn't dreamed about it since he and Olivia had married.

Olivia still stood at the foot of the bed, he knew. Slowly, he opened his eyes to look at her. This time he saw her smooth face and shoulder length blonde hair, and tried to bring himself into this present.

"What time is it?" he asked aloud as he turned to the alarm clock on her bedside table.

"It's 0200," she replied.

He looked at her again and it registered that she was dressed, but not in the clothes she'd left in. Then he remembered that she had returned, but only three hours ago.

"When are you leaving?" he asked when he surmised the situation.

"They are on their way, they'll be here any moment," she said. "I wanted to let you sleep until then."

Olivia searched his face, studying him to assess for herself if he was alright. He knew she couldn´t believe him, but he also knew she didn´t have the time to deal with it. She sighed and looked away when she came to the same conclusion.

She moved toward the back of the room. He followed her with his gaze to his right where she opened the closet door and picked up the present she had stored there.

"I saw you didn't open my present," she commented as she returned to him.

"I wanted you to be here when I did," he replied and relaxed into the neutrality of the conversation.

Here, with Olivia and Dylan, life was so ordinary that James often forgot how their lives were anything but, and that they never had been. The plain moments of daily life might be the only thing keeping him sane, he often thought.

She placed the gift next to him and sat down on the other side of it to watch him open it. He lifted the box wrapped in paper with thick blue and green stripes.

"A little heft to this," he said.

James leaned over and kissed her cheek, letting his lips rest against her skin as he breathed in her scent to calm him further.

Pulling away, he looked down at the box and tried to guess what it might be. His last birthday he had been in hospital and she'd bought him comfortable slippers and a robe. The robe hadn't looked like George's but it had still been a difficult gift for him to receive.

"You know, George got me that toaster I wanted, the one that can make 4 slices at a time," he teased. "So I hope you didn't get me the same."

It had been strange that two people who would willingly pull off a stunt like they had in hospital would be so practical when it came to gift giving, but then he'd noticed it when he'd gone with her to her friend's parties.

_"It was the war, James," she'd explained. "And everything before and after. You don't know what it was like."_

He hadn't asked again, but he'd found some sort of peace in it, that Olivia and her friends had made it through that insurmountable time and now they gathered for birthdays and gave each other skillets and tea pots and, once, a sturdy garden hose.

Today there was something in the way she looked at him that told him this gift was going to be different. He carefully began to remove the tape. That was another thing he'd learned at his birthday the previous year, one didn't just rip off the paper and toss it in the garbage bin. The tape would be removed and the paper carefully folded and stored so it could be used again.

Olivia helped him turn the box over. When he lifted the paper off and saw what was enclosed he gave her a surprised look.

"But," he started, then shook his head and smiled.

"When I return home, I expect a feature length film of what Dylan did while I was gone," she said, then leaned in to kiss his lips.

When she pulled away, James looked back down at the box that held the 8 mm sound camera he'd been looking at in the camera magazines he brought home from the library each week. He'd wanted one but hadn't been able to figure out a way to justify the expense. Before, he would have just bought something he wanted. They could afford it, so what did it matter? A year with Olivia, though, had taught him to control his impulse buys. Things in 1970's UK were vastly different than the consumer driven future he'd been used to.

"That's the right one?" she asked. "George and I noticed you looked at this one the most."

"It's perfect," he smiled.

A knock at the door interrupted them and Olivia sighed.

"I'll be right back," she said.

James set the camera aside on the bed and reached for his robe. He followed her into the front of the house. She was shutting the door and turned to him.

"I have to go," she said with a pensive look.

"I know," he said. "It's fine."

He leaned down and pressed his lips gently against hers. She pulled back and turned toward the door.

"We'll be OK," he said as he nuzzled his lips against her neck. "That nanny will be here and she can take us to the market and George can take us to the library."

She nodded and opened the door. James walked out behind her. He saw the car in the drive but couldn't see the faces of the men inside. Catching her hand, he pulled her back for another kiss.

"What was that for?" she smiled up at him when he released her.

"Just a manly thing, you know," he said, making his voice gruff. "Gotta make sure those blokes in the car know what's what."

He was rewarded with a smile and a quiet laugh.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

James watched her walk down the drive and get into the car. Then they pulled around to the street and were gone.

When he returned to the house, he looked down the hall toward the bedroom. The light from the bedside table lamp that Olivia had been using as she readied to leave cast long shadows toward him. He couldn't bring himself to go back to the bed. Despite the reprieve with Olivia, his nightmare was still fresh in his mind. Instead he shuffled over to the sofa and pulled the blanket off the back. He put one of the throw pillows beneath his head and lay down on his back and covered himself. He wasn't sure if he would even be able to sleep again.

It was difficult to be around George sometimes. At first, before he'd realized the time travel was nothing more than a loop that had already occurred, he'd felt as if he was robbing the man of his happiness with Olivia. Now, though, he knew what his silence would mean for George in the future. He knew he couldn't say anything, but the more he got to know the man, the more his silence became a physical ache.

He thought back to that night in the safe house, those first hours after George had been killed. The pain in M's eyes had been palpable. He's wanted to be the one to avenge a man he'd never met, if only it would bring some peace to her. Now, though, he was the guilty one, wasn't he? James could stop it from happening. He could tell Martin. As M, he could take care of the problem easily. The words never left his lips, though. He couldn't say anything about George's death, no more than he could about the hostages in Iran or Pan Am flight 103 or 9/11 or 7/7. James had never believed in inevitability. It sounded too much like fate or religion. Now, inevitability was real. Everything that had happened, would again, wouldn't it?

He stared up into the darkness and wondered how M felt when she saw him that night, knowing he could have prevented George's death. Had she hated him for causing her more pain? Did that night call to mind whatever event would cause James' and Dylan's deaths? Was she already aware that everything that had happened between them, or would happen between them, was inescapable?

The thoughts began to make his mind spin. He felt a sudden need for fresh air and sat up. He reached for his cane as he twisted on the sofa, but he missed and fell down off the seat. His head hit the edge of the coffee table as he went down causing a bright flash to explode behind his eyes. He fought to stay alert, but his eyes refused to cooperate. In his mind he saw a man standing in the shadows across the street from the cottage, watching him. He opened his mouth to call for help, but no sound came out. He watched, frozen, as the man started to cross the street toward the house.

'It is all inevitable,' he heard himself say, as he slipped into the darkness. 'There's nothing you can do about it.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my English classes are done until I transfer to State so I might actually write more this spring. Who knows? ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The training never leaves you, but sometimes your mind does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hullo, here's a new chapter. :)

As George pulled off the quiet road in front of Liv's and James' cottage into the U drive, the sun broke through the morning grey just enough to shine on the little house. The fog had yet to completely burn off and the sun combined with it to give the little house a magical aura.

George didn't believe in magic, though. He'd seen too much in the 45 years he'd lived to think for a moment that life was anything more than a cruel joke. Here, though, in this small corner, set back far enough from London and the major thoroughfares, something happened to George for which there was no reasonable explanation. In this place, with rare exception, the terrible cruelties his job, and his life, subjected him to, seemed far away. The cottage felt to George more like a home than any other place he'd ever visited.

Liv and James themselves had something he had never seen. George shook his head as he pondered over the same thoughts he always did. There was something in the way they looked at each other, in their conversations, in the subtleties of their touches, that had made it plain to him over the last year that there was something more between the two of them than George had believed possible. He thought that it should make him feel out of place, as if he was an intruder into this little world that Liv and James had made for themselves. Instead, he felt out of place when he left. 

With Liv, he had always felt perfectly comfortable to be any version of himself. Their friendship had been the closest thing he had felt to intimacy with another person. The surprise for George was that it hadn't taken him long to feel the same way with James. He'd had George set up a small work area in the garage and the two had spent many summer days in there, George building, while he and James talked. At first, immediately following the wedding, James had been a bit awkward in their conversations. By the time Liv had given birth, though, their shaky conversations were a thing of the far past.

Over the years, Liv had learned much about him, both through observation and because George had trusted her with many of his secrets. He had never told her, however, and she had never openly noticed, that he simply did not believe in love. Not romantic love that people thought marriage was based on. While he'd seen people who had happy marriages and had somehow made things work without making each other too miserable, the kind of feelings so many people nowadays seemed to expect in a relationship, he thought were made up by marketers trying to sell romance novels. 

His parents were certainly never in love with each other in any romantic sense of the word. They'd married, had their two obligatory children within the first few years, then, as far as George could tell, never slept in the same bed, or even the same room, again. They had gone on like their own parents. His mother to her charities and garden clubs. His father to his job and his mistress. The only thing George had thought out of place was the mistress, and he'd sworn he'd never have one. Otherwise, three years into his marriage, he and his wife were nearly the same as their parents.

A movement across the street caught George's attention and he finally cut the engine and threw open the door. He nodded to the man in the brown sedan who had just pulled up to park. The man returned his nod. George looked up and down the street openly as the man got out of his car. He walked toward George who met him at the end of the drive.

"How has it looked so far?" he asked the other man.

"Things are clear," he replied. "Do you want me to park or just drive around and keep an eye on things?"

"I still think driving is the best," George told him. "This isn't the sort of neighborhood where strangers park and read the paper in their car."

The man smiled in agreement and nodded. They parted and George headed to the house.

James was expecting a nanny, but not one named George. It was still early enough, though, that George didn't want to wake him. Yesterday had been hard on James. George could tell that the people had drained him. He'd sent James to bed and stayed to finish the cleaning and get Dylan down for the night. Then, at 0200, he'd received a call from M. They were ready to move on SMERSH locally and within the organization. Liv had left for Venezuela and he needed George to keep an eye on things with James. They weren't expecting anything at the house, he'd been assured, it was just precautionary.

George quietly turned his key in the lock and opened the door. It was dark and quiet inside so he carefully removed his coat and hat and hung them on the rack in the alcove.

"I'm in the kitchen," he heard James call.

Surprised, George headed quickly across the living room.

James was leaning on his elbows on the table, head in his hands, one hand holding an ice pack to his right temple. He gave him a bored look, obviously already aware from the sounds George made that it was he who had entered the house.

"You're not the nanny," James quipped.

"Nice to know you can see," George stated as he pulled out the chair across from James.

James winced at the noise and George tried to sit down as quietly as possible.

"Liv finally had enough of it, eh?" he sighed dramatically and shook his head. "I knew it would come to this."

James attempted to role his eyes. It proved too much for the pain in his head and it ended in another wince.

"What'd you do?" George asked.

"Fell off the sofa," James told him.

George gave him a hard stare, but James didn't blink.

"Well, I guess you can keep the other half of the story to yourself for now," George conceded.

"Why are you here?" James asked. "What have you done with Mrs. Davies?"

He considered continuing their banter with some quip about how Liv was jealous of the attention James paid to the usual nanny, but he had put off reality long enough.

"The short of it is that we will be busy collecting SMERSH people this week so M wants me to keep an eye on things during the day," he told James.

"SMERSH," James quoted quietly.

George watched as James face went blank and he stared, unblinking, at the table. This wasn't the first time George had seen him do this. He worried about the level of James' obvious shell shock and the fact that, like himself and Liv and others in their line of work, nothing was going to be done about it. Not that most doctors had more to give than medication and lengthy stays in sanatoriums.

After a few minutes, James blinked several times then took a loud breath as he came back to himself. George kept his face neutral. James might not even be aware he'd had an episode. George left that to Liv to work through. No amount of his parent's voiced concerns had helped George after he returned from Korea, so he doubted his own would help James.

"So, uh, you're going to hang out and keep an eye on things?" James asked.

George nodded.

"And we have a few agents making the rounds through the neighborhood during the day," he added. "At night you'll have a guard outside in a car."

"Is M expecting something here?" James asked.

George shook his head.

"Just precautionary," he explained.

"Kind of a cushy assignment for you," James remarked.

George smirked.

"Well, you're not as attractive as some of the people I've guarded, but it won't be entirely unpleasant, I'm sure."

James chuckled, then George finally reached across the table and pulled the ice bag off James face.

"Ouch," he reacted when he saw the bruising. "When did you fall?"

"This morning, after Olivia left," James told him. "But I've slept since then so there's bound to be a nasty mark since I didn't keep the ice on it like I should have."

George studied him as he returned the ice to the rather large bump on the side of his forehead. He knew James was lying, but he didn't see any sign of concussion. He'd keep an eye on him during the day and take him in if needed.

Before he could think much more about it, he heard Dylan talking in the bedroom.

"Well, you rest and I'll get Dylan ready for breakfast," he said, then stood and walked back across the living room toward the bedroom.

* * *

_18 hours later_

James sat in darkness at the kitchen table, listening as someone jimmied the lock on the garden door. His right hand rested loosely on the gun atop the table, in his left hand he had his cane. Both he planned to use as weapons tonight.

He could tell the man at the back door was nearly finished, then he heard someone at the front door. That wasn't a surprise. He'd expected it. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he worried about the guard who was supposed to be out front, but he couldn't let his concern distract him.

They'd been watching him for a few weeks, but _only_ him. When Olivia or George were around, he never saw them. At first he wondered if he wasn't imagining it, his nightmares possibly bleeding into his reality, but a week ago he'd taken Dylan out in his pram for a walk and overheard two of the older residents commenting on seeing some strange men in their normally quiet neighborhood.

He'd known then something was going to happen. When George had told him about the sweep at Six, James realized that if it was SMERSH, they'd be forced to act tonight. Neither Olivia nor George were here. Only an invalid and a baby, and what defense did they expect from James? Yes, he'd bested them once, but he'd had backup. Now, supposedly, he would be caught alone and unawares.

After George had left for the evening, James had started to put his plan into place. He'd bought an outdoor lock after he'd heard the women talking, and he replaced Dylan's doorknob with that. At least it might be more difficult for anyone to enter. By the time James had made enough noise with the gun and his other plans, that might be enough to deter them.

James heard the lock finally click over on the garden door and felt himself smirk. As the back door slowly opened, the front door lock gave way and James held his breath. He suspected the man at the front door was going to go to the bedrooms and the man at the back was just there to keep anyone from going out that way.

The rope he'd tied to the knob became taut as the intruder pushed it open. James eyes, which had adjusted to the dark already, could see that the other man did not look up, nor could he tell that the slight tightness of the door was a result of the make-shift booby-trap James had set up. He'd hung a hook from the ceiling after his trip to the ironmongers. He told Olivia it was to hang a bell on for when Dylan started walking so they'd hear him if he went outside. She'd looked at him like he was crazy, but she'd never suspected. Now, from the hook, hung a bucket that was slowly being tipped over by a somewhat elaborate system of pullies. The end of the line was wrapped around a hook next to the table where James usually hung an oven mit.

Finally, he got tired of waiting for the idiot to push his way in and upend the bucket; James reached for the end of the rope. He jerked it and it pulled the knob from the man's hand causing him to stumble, at the same time, it turned the bucket completely upside down and near-boiling water poured onto the intruder. He screamed and James heard the other man run toward the kitchen. James abruptly lifted his cane and it caught the man just under the chin. There was a strangled gurgling sound as the force choked the man. James had expected to hit him in the chest. But now he knew where to shoot. He stood quickly and turned the gun on the man who had fallen back into the living room. He fired once, then slammed the handle of his cane down hard on the man's groin for good measure. The body jerked briefly, then it lay still and lifeless.

He turned back to the man at the garden door who was starting to stand up, though he was still whimpering. James had planned to keep this one alive for M to question. He picked up his cane again intending to give him a similar treatment to the man in the living room, but, to James' surprise, this man was able to grab hold of the cane before James could land a hit on him. He jerked James toward him, and everything else happened on trained instinct.

James let go the cane and slammed his left hand into the man's face. He felt a crunch as the base of his palm cracked the man's nose. The other man screamed again, but tried to come at James. Not wanting to shoot the man in the dark, hit something vital, and end up with no one to question, James threw open the icebox door quickly. It knocked the man back and he lost his footing when he slipped on the spilled water, falling backwards and pushing the garden door shut when his head slammed against it.

The man groaned and put his hand to the back of his head. James reached carefully for his cane. Then he picked up some extra rope off the counter and pulled out one of the chairs from the table. He turned on the light over the stove and pointed the gun at the man.

"Unless you want to end up like your friend in the other room, get up and sit on this chair," he commanded.

The man whimpered, but finally complied. James pulled his arms back roughly and the man howled. The water must have hit his shoulders as well. Once James had him bound, both hands and legs, to the chair, he ripped off the ski mask for good measure. The man screamed as skin came off with the cloth. James nodded as he admired his handiwork.

"I'm going to let you live," he said. "Do you know why?"

He waited for an answer but the man only whined in pain.

"Because I want you to tell your friends that if they ever even _fantasize_ about hurting my family, I will find them and then I will cut each of them to pieces. Do you understand?"

When the man didn't answer, James jerked back his head by his hair and put the barrel of his gun under his chin.

"Yes," the man answered in a frantic tone.

James looked over the ropes once more to make sure they were tight and secure, then he turned, stepped over the body in the living room, and headed to the back of the house.

In his room, he took the key for Dylan's door from it's hiding place between the box spring of his and Olivia's bed and the frame. He went into the bathroom and checked in the mirror to make sure he had no blood spatter on him that could get on Dylan, then he unlocked his son's door. James sighed with relief when he saw that Dylan had slept through everything. Not wasting any time, he picked up the baby carrier and wrapped it around himself. Then he picked up Dylan carefully and eased him into the body of the carrier. Dylan fussed for a moment, then he quieted and settled against James' chest. James picked up the diaper bag he had ready on the rocking chair, stuffed the gun inside, then he headed toward the front door.

Without comment to his prisoner, James opened the front door and headed out into the night.

Across the street, he saw a car, but no driver. He wondered if the guard had been killed or if he had been one of his assailants. It wasn't important at the moment, though, and he turned to the right to walk to his neighbor's house.

The McGrath's were an older couple. Mr. McGrath had been in pilot in WW2. James had long ago decided that if there was trouble, this was where he'd head. Mrs. McGrath had apparently been an agent during the war herself, infiltrating Nazi groups in occupied Paris. But they were both pensioned off now and only had their stories to share. Neither knew exactly what Olivia did for the SIS, the story they'd given was that she was someone's secretary and James had his pension after he'd suffered an injury at a construction site he was working at in South Africa.

As he approached, he wondered if the couple had heard anything, but then the porch light came on and McGrath stood in the door with his long rifle at his side.

"Smythe," McGrath greeted him. "What's going on? I thought I heard a gunshot."

James nodded.

"I need to use the phone, there was a break in," he said.

McGrath eyed him, peering with keen interest at the bruise on James' temple. James realized he was being far too calm and it was making the man wary.

He forced himself to take a shaky breath and ask for the phone again. This time McGrath opened the door all the way and allowed him in.

"Where's Olivia?" Mrs. McGrath was tying her robe as she stood in the hall near the bedroom.

"She's traveling for work," James said, trying to sound as stressed as he could without overdoing it.

He'd never been particularly good at faking insecurity. He was far too cocky and proud.

"He had a break in," McGrath said.

"Did you run them off?" Mrs. McGrath asked.

James ignored her and walked to the phone.

"I can ring the police," McGrath offered. "You should sit down, you're probably in a state."

"I have a friend in Scotland Yard," James said.

"Oh, well, alright," he replied.

James could feel them give each other a look behind him but he ignored that as well.

When he got M on the line he told him, as coded as possible without sounding suspicious, that there was a break in, that one of the intruders was dead and the other was alive, but secured in the kitchen. M told him to stay where he was and that their people would be there right away. James hung up then sat on the sofa, unoffered.

He heard Mrs. McGrath behind him in the kitchen, she sounded like she might be putting on the tea. Mr. McGrath sat in his recliner across from James and stared at him.

"You're too young for Korea, aren't you?" McGrath asked.

James gave him a confused look.

"Some military, though," McGrath nodded in agreement with his own comment.

James let the man think it, there was no need to contradict.

"What happened over there?" he asked. "I heard a scream, it woke me, but it was a man's scream."

James nodded.

"But then, after a few seconds, that's when I heard a gunshot," he continued. "I'm sure of it."

James nodded again.

"Then, there was more screaming again and Mrs. McGrath finally woke," he said. "Now here you are."

James looked at him unsure what the man was seeking. The thought came, unbidden and incongruous, that he might never get used to an era where older married couples insisted on calling each other Mr. and Mrs. to people outside their home. It was like something out of an old movie, and he'd always thought it was made up. But, apparently, like practical gifts and penny-pinching ways, it was a part of life in England in the 70s.

Mrs. McGrath brought some tea in for them on a tray and set it down. She prepared some for him and placed it on the end table next to where he sat on the sofa so he could reach it easily and not disturb Dylan. Then she took her seat next to Mr. McGrath.

"Have some tea, lad," Mrs. McGrath directed.

James did as he was told and started to count seconds. Where was Six? Why hadn't they come for him? In short order, the innocent looks of Mr. and Mrs. McGrath began to play on James' increasingly paranoid mind. What if Six hadn't been thorough enough? What if the information about the neighbors had been planted by SMERSH agents? What if...

A knock on the door forced James to stop thinking about the what ifs and reach his hand inside the diaper bag which he had set next to him on the sofa.

Mr. McGrath opened the door when he saw it was George.

"Mansfield, you work for Scotland Yard?" McGrath asked. "I thought you were at the Home Office."

George nodded.

"I am, but James and I have mutual friends so I got a call to come help," he said.

Mrs. McGrath was sitting between James and the front door and James caught her suspicion immediately. James stood up before she had a chance to say anything. He thanked the McGrath's for their help and George introduced them to an agent who was going to be outside on the street.

"I think they might put a few more officers on the street for a while," George assured the McGraths. "But please lock up tight and remain inside for the rest of the night."

He handed Mr. McGrath a card.

"Call this number if you hear or see anything unusual," George said.

He and James said their goodnight's and James thanked the couple, then they headed down the drive toward the street. George's car was parked in front of the McGrath's house because James' own driveway was filled with cars from Six, and two police cars.

George opened the passenger door for James and attempted to take the diaper bag.

"My gun's in there," James argued when he refused to allow George to have it.

George released it and James sat down in the seat.

"I'll get the infant seat from Liv's car," he told James.

He nodded to one of the officers who came and stood next to the car.

When George returned, he installed the seat in the back and attempted to get James to hand him Dylan.

James only held onto the baby more tightly. This gave George pause, but then he nodded in understanding, and helped James thread the seatbelt between James and the baby carrier.

"What happened?" George asked as they drove away.

"SMERSH felt the pressure of the sweep, I suppose," James said. 

"But how did you best them?" George asked.

James refused to answer.

"Look, I was in the house," George said. "It was obvious you knew they were coming."

James remained silent.

"Did Liv know about this?" George asked.

When James didn't answer again, George let out a low whistle.

"Oh, man, you are in some serious," George stopped and glanced over at Dylan.

He cleared his throat and tried again.

"You are in so much trouble," he told James. "That's the nicest way I can put this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's been a while. No school to blame now, just life has been really, really, really terrible since just after Christmas. I have spent almost as much time in the nearest children's hospital since Christmas as I have at home. And we are not completely done with everything. *sigh* I am working on the next chapter, we'll see when I can finally put it all together.


End file.
